


Running Hot and Cold

by accol



Category: Generation Kill, True Blood
Genre: Biting, Double Penetration, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Rough Sex, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accol/pseuds/accol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Generation Kill x True Blood crossover drabbles originally written for fivesentencesmut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Anonymous asked: Brad ‘Iceman’ Colbert/Eric Northman || Rough Sex_

Eric’s fangs grazed Brad’s knuckles when he took a swing at his assailant in the dark without his thermals; cold flesh met his skin, and a growl met his ears.  Brad’s adrenaline surged when his attacker identified himself, voice low and filled with his customary dark humor.

“Well, well, are we a little feisty tonight, Bradley?  You know I love it when you have a little fight in you,” Eric said, pressing into Brad’s space from chest to knees and taking a long, fucking  _ridiculous_ inhale from the side of Brad’s neck; that shit always made Brad feel like a genetically engineered food bank crossing a flower patch with a dairy farm, and he goddamn loathed it.

He shoved at Eric, blindly hooking his foot behind Eric’s ankles in an attempt to take him to the ground; Eric flipped them midfall, straddling Brad’s hips as they thudded onto the hardpack, but Brad rolled them again, landing a forearm against Eric’s neck out of reflex — every time with Eric made Brad realize how little training he had for anything other than human attackers — and a knee between Eric’s thighs, flush against Eric’s hardening dick enough to make Eric hiss.  

“Your attempts to catch me off guard are getting annoying.”  He plastered a hand over Eric’s mouth, locking his free leg against the outside of Eric’s hip to pin him, and reached down to unfasten their pants; Eric’s fingernails dug into Brad’s hips when he palmed them both, the friction just this side of bearable as he fucked his cock against Eric’s, Eric bucking beneath him.  Brad swung his hips brutally, still unable to see a goddamn thing in the darkness, letting his other senses take over — the faint sound of Eric’s grunts of pleasure, the grit under Eric’s boot heel, Brad’s own panting breaths — until Brad was teetering on the edge of orgasm, frankly not giving a shit if Eric came or not, not with this role-playing bullshit he kept orchestrating (Brad knew Eric could get out of this hold, that he was just struggling because he got off on Brad straining, muscles flexed).  The stinging pain in his palm and the dizzying tug on his blood sent him over and he arched his back, coming across Eric’s abdomen until warm mixed with cool and Eric licked Brad’s hand.  


	2. Chapter 2

_Anonymous asked: Eric/Nate/Brad, teaching Nate a lesson._

“Bossy fucker,” Brad said under his breath. His eyes flared as he pressed Nate to the bed with a hand on Nate’s right shoulder; a slow smile was Eric’s contribution as his cool touch pushed on Nate’s left. 

Nate was pinned beneath them both, doppelgangers only in appearance. Eric’s touch was firm but gentle, calm with an eternity of time spreading out for him in both directions from this moment; Brad, however, radiated an intensity of heat and power as he manhandled Nate into the mattress. Less than twenty minutes ago, Nate had taken his sweet time with Brad, taking him to the edge of orgasm and holding him there; this was payback.

“Show me what you’ve got, Colbert,” Nate sassed; Eric was laughing as they both pushed into Nate, the heat and the chill making Nate shiver with pleasure.


	3. Chapter 3

_beaumontinvestigations asked:Eric/Nate, Nate was caught in some trouble in Iraq and suddenly Eric is there to help him because he could know when Nate is in danger no matter where he is in the world._

Sometimes Nate would rub the side of his sunburned neck and feel the smooth skin there, no evidence remaining that Eric had drunk from him so many times; he’d swipe a thumb across his dusty lower lip and remember the heady taste of Eric’s blood as they bound themselves to each other.  
  
The IED was planted in an open stretch of highway south of Baghdad; the battalion got there at dusk and hell broke loose with a flaming shower of supply truck shrapnel and a deafening blast.  Nate’s ears were ringing painfully as he directed his men into a defensive ring around the remaining vehicles;  Doc was yelling for someone to radio this shit in, to get a casevac here fucking pronto.  Suddenly, Nate’s field of vision was filled with tall and blond as Eric shot down from the night sky and turned Nate’s head side to side to inspect him for damage.  
  
Nate surged with rage — he was fucking fine, and there were injured Marines within feet of them — he pushed Eric’s hands away and barked, “I’m uninjured.  Help the others.”  
  
When the unit shipped back stateside three weeks later, broken physically and mentally, Nate drove straight from the base to Eric’s house, waiting with those impersonal words he’d yelled at Eric stilling ringing in his ears, on the front step until the sun set.  Nate wasn’t gentle when he pushed Eric down or when he fucked himself onto Eric until drops of sweat fell onto Eric’s cool skin; nor was he gentle when he bared his teeth and bit Eric’s shoulder as he came, finally feeling an iota of peace as the taste sprang across his tongue.


	4. Chapter 4

_Anonymous asked: Eric &Nate / ♪ I don’t know who you think you are, but before the night is through, I wanna do bad things with you ♪_

The one thing — the one and ONLY thing — that Bill Compton was useful for was his ability to engage the human politicians and their so-called think tanks in a useful dialog. Eric had gone to Washington reluctantly, but the trip was made worthwhile when Nate Fick shook his hand in the lobby of the conference’s hotel.

Nate leaned in toward Eric, self-assured and unfailingly brave, both things that piqued Eric’s interest, and said with a surprising note of cheek in his tone, “I noticed your peevish look in Mr. Compton’s direction. Would you and I make more progress discussing our organizations’ needs in private?”

Eric smiled like the predator he was, and purred his reply, “Oh but I am never peevish, Mr. Fick, I simply can smell incompetence from a great distance. You, however, smell delicious.”

“Before the night is over, then, Mr. Northman,” Nate said, smiling past pink lips that made Eric’s fangs push against his gums in a painfully delicious way.


	5. Chapter 5

_Anonymous asked: Brad/Nate/Eric (either established Brad/Nate or Eric/Nate), Brad/Eric don’t share well, but they can’t deny that Nate looks amazing trying to boss them both around in bed (even if he is somewhat unsuccessful)._

Brad and his doppelganger — Nate’s not-secret-anymore boyfriend — shared a look; this was fucking weird but also, surprisingly, hotter than a Vegas whore on payday.

Nate had pushed them both back onto the bed and he was kneeling between their hips, stroking himself slowly as he looked them over like he owned them. “I want you to kiss each other. Watch your fangs, Eric.”

Brad just gawped at Nate and Brad’s dick jerked on his stomach. Eric spoke smoothly, however, saying, “Nathaniel, that isn’t what we’re here for.”

Nate’s eyes flashed with a combination of anger and lust; Brad watched Eric’s fangs drop at the sight, and Brad succumbed to the overwhelming need to jack himself in time with Nate’s movements.

“You’re here because I said you could be,” Nate growled, and something in Brad snapped. Eric grinned and licked his fangs when it was Brad that pounced to force Nate into submission.


End file.
